Carols and Chaos
by mrspencil
Summary: Responses to Hades' awesome December challenge. 24/ Reluctance: final chapter, and a Happy New Year wished for all.
1. Fire and Light

My first response to Hades' awesome December challenge.

December 1st...From Hades Lord of the Dead - A firework display and Watson's war memories do not mix well.

* * *

**Fire and Light**

* * *

Doctor Watson

Heading home

Across the deeply

Shadowed park.

Urgent call

Delayed departure;

Colder now and

Getting dark.

Did not choose

To take a cab,

Preferred to take

The evening air.

(Blanket bought for

Stricken patient

Matched the cost

Of carriage fare.)

Briskly treads

The gravel pathway

Striking stone

With sturdy cane;

Thoughts on cosy hearth

And tea;

And whether

He'll get

Called again.

~0~

Reverie

Abruptly shattered;

Loud explosion

Close at hand.

Sparks and

Shooting stars

Erupting,

Heat and smoke

And screaming

And...

Instincts from the past

take hold;

He throws himself

On frozen ground.

Rolls adeptly

Off the track,

Alert for every

Sight and sound;

Ready for

Whatever follows;

Brain and heart in

Fighting stance.

Takes a few

Deep breaths,

Recovers,

Gives the scene

A second

Glance

~0~

Crowds indeed

Are shouting loudly;

Peaceful park

In disarray

But...

No death,

No blind destruction;

Simply fireworks

On display.

Doctor Watson sighs,

Stands up,

Retrieves his bag

And dusts his coat.

Lets his heart rate

Settle down

And muscles ease

In tightened throat.

Carries on

To Baker Street,

His back now turned

On fire and light.

~0~

Vivid Maiwand

Battle scenes

Will banish

Restful sleep

Tonight.

~0~


	2. To Mary

_A/N: Second prompt response to Hades' awesome challenge. _

_From I'm Nova - "Mary gets deduced"_

_By Holmes..._

* * *

**To Mary**

* * *

The science of deduction

Calls for careful observations;

No place for mawkish sentiment

Or fluff-infested thought.

My subject has been studied

Under various conditions,

And here, just as requested,

Is my final full report.

~0~

Her very first appearance

Told me much about her nature;

A neat and modest figure

Not excessively adorned.

Her plain and simple clothing,

Deftly patched and sewn and laundered,

Spoke of careful conservation

And of fuss distinctly scorned.

~0~

A single small white feather

Tucked discreetly in her turban

Showed a certain flair for fashion

Which was otherwise suppressed.

Her calm, straightforward manner

And her clear direct narration

Meant, despite my usual habits,

I was really quite impressed.

~0~

I noticed from her footwear

She was fond of feline company;

The way her cuffs were buttoned

Made it clear she liked to bake.

Her steady and her open, honest

Countenance shone clearly;

Romance? I could not say

For there were bigger things at stake.

~0~

And now, it seems quite fortunate

I have the opportunity

To check those observations

Now a few more months have passed;

To reappraise my findings,

Now I've deepened my acquaintance,

And to see if expectations

Have been thwarted or surpassed.

~0~

I note my subject's wearing

Quite an elegant creation;

This time she is no stranger

To bead trimmings, silk and lace.

I am pleased to state sincerely

That deductions did not fail me;

As she demonstrates unwavering

Poise, courage, hope and grace.

~0~

In fact my only error

Was in voicing hesitation

At the thought of the event

Which I have witnessed in this room.

So, stand and raise your glasses

To romance, when such is needed...

To the newly wedded Watsons!

To the blushing bride and groom!

~0~


	3. Stars

_A/__n: third response to Hades' challenge_

_Prompt from Hades Lord of the Dead - "Stars shining bright above you..."_

_set during the hiatus...point of view of Dr Watson._

* * *

**Stars**

* * *

There are stars shining brightly above you,

And the lamplight's a soft golden glow,

And the breath from each traveller is frosted,

Wrapped up warm, as they dash to and fro.

And, oh Mary, there's snow!

~0~

You can hear muffled hooves on the cobbles

As the cabs and the carts rattle by,

And young voices raised up singing carols,

And the sound of the street trader's cry

As more flakes fill the sky.

~0~

Now the stars shine less brightly above you,

As white feathers fall thicker and fast,

And a tumble of small ragged urchins

Laugh and shout as they weave their way past.

Are you resting at last?

~0~

If I simply arrange that slipped pillow

So your head is supported, just right,

Can you see, floating down, through the window

How the crystals of ice catch the light?

Such a magical night.

~0~

And now, Mary, a blizzard is raging

And the light from the lamps is less clear,

And the crowds bustle home through the flurries

And the stars, up above, disappear.

Are you sleeping, my dear?

~0~

_Now the white swirling storm has subsided,_

_And the pale morning light falls upon_

_Such a glittering snow-covered landscape._

_A new day, and the world carries on..._

_But my Mary has gone._

~0~


	4. Insecurity

_A/N: 4th response to Hades' challenge_

_prompt from cjnwriter - Insecurity._

* * *

**Insecurity**

* * *

He cast his violin aside;

He barely played a note.

He scattered papers on the floor;

One line was all he wrote

He left the tea things on the tray;

The tea, now cold, scarce sipped;

The bread and ham and cheese untouched;

His wholesome supper skipped.

He toyed with test tubes, not for long,

The pipe rack caught his eye;

He picked the Persian slipper up,

Watched minutes ticking by.

He put the Persian slipper down,

He paced the parlour floor;

He strode from hearth to furthest wall,

From window back to door.

The great Detective Sherlock Holmes

Was forced to simply wait,

For Doctor Watson, stalwart soul,

Was more than two hours late.

~0~

Perhaps an urgent message caught

The doctor on his round?

Perhaps much better company

Than his own had been found?

Perhaps he'd met with danger

As he'd headed through the park?

Who knew what kind of trouble

Might be lurking after dark?

Perhaps a shadowed alley

Brought a swift and bloody end?

Perhaps he'd seen the last

Of his associate and friend...

~0~

Holmes smoked a pipe, then two

Then three, resumed an even pace

Eliminate impossible solutions...

Solve the case.

To stay? Or leave the house

And organise a rescue mission?

The doctor...now in cosy inn,

Or perilous position?

~0~

Just then, the sound of key in lock,

And footsteps drawing near

Holmes ceased his pacing,

Thankful that his Boswell was now here.

He sat, with practiced nonchalance

In usual fireside chair,

And waited, fingers steepled

With a calm and studied air.

His tardy comrade bustled in,

His coat and hat askew;

"So sorry Holmes, I hope my lateness

Has not worried you.

I had an unavoidable, emergency late call."

~0~

Holmes stretched in feigned indifference;

"Dear Watson, not at all."

~0~


	5. Alone on The Strand

_A/N: 2 prompts combined, as I have been giving Dr Watson a bit of a hard time so far._

_From Poseidon - God of the Seas - Watson has angst._

_From Emma Lynch - Stranded on The Strand - no cab for John Watson_

* * *

**Alone on The Strand**

* * *

Here is a doctor alone on The Strand.

~0~

Here is The Strand he is stranded upon.

Here, empty pockets; his wallet has gone.

~0~

Here is the spot where a scuffle took place;

Here is a bruise which discolours his face;

Here's the reward for pursuing a case.

~0~

Here is a warm hansom cab driving by;

Here's a lost chance to reach home, safe and dry;

Here is the swelling now closing one eye;

Here, up above, is the darkening sky.

~0~

Here are some snowflakes beginning to fall;

Soft, crystal feathers, no comfort at all;

Here's no detective to answer his call;

And here is a gasp as he tries to stand tall;

And here's one more injury gained in the brawl.

~0~

Here is his ankle...cracked bone or bad sprain?

Here's a hissed breath as he tests it again.

Here he sighs deeply, frustration writ plain;

And here he attempts to deny he's in pain.

Here is the effort it takes to regain

A faltering balance, and here is his cane.

~0~

Here is The Strand with a blanket of white,

Here's a physician aware of his plight;

Here is the start of an arduous night;

A struggle to get through the hours till day's light.

And here is a man who still worries despite

His current dire straits, if his friend is all right;

Unsure of his fate since the villains took flight.

~0~

Here creeps the cold which can chill to the bone;

And here, see how harshly the east wind has blown;

Here's an ordeal, with the outcome unknown

Here, the low odds of survival are shown;

And here's his expression, now set as hard stone,

As slowly, so slowly he limps on, alone.

~0~

Here is a treacherous snow covered street,

And here's an ex-soldier with stiff frozen feet

Who still carries on, within sight of defeat,

And will not give up till his journey's complete;

Will battle on, scorning all thoughts of retreat.

~0~

Here is the entrance to Simpsons, shut fast,

And here is a wall he can lean on at last

And shelter, though slight, from the storm's icy blast;

And here, he can't tell how much time has gone past.

~0~

And here is the point when numb sleep overcame

All hope that John Watson was winning this game...

But...Holmes, in the distance, is calling his name.

~0~

Here comes a second cab, driving at speed,

And here's a detective whose friend is in need...

~0~

And here is a doctor, alone on The Strand

~0~


	6. Africa

_A/N: a response to the seventh prompt received in Hades' awesome challenge_

_Prompt from Ennui Enigma - Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson in Africa_

_Also, this chapter is dedicated to Ennui Enigma, with love:-)_

* * *

**Africa**

* * *

Southampton;

Their sea voyage had ended,

6 weeks altogether;

A light fall of snow

In sharp contrast

To African weather.

They boarded a train

To the city,

Home comforts in mind;

But both still affected by

Thoughts

Of the land left behind.

The trip...a huge favour to Mycroft,

So much was at stake;

Three months

On a continent neither

Found easy to shake.

~0~

Holmes stared through the

Frost patterned window

At fields passing by,

The neat little walls and trimmed hedges

Beneath leaden sky.

Though clearly adhering to reason

And scorning romance,

He thought of the clearings

They'd camped on,

The endless expanse.

The sun rising over the mountains

In luminous gold,

As wilderness stories

And patterns began to unfold.

He thought of the dangers

They'd faced

In the dust and the heat,

Long treks far away

From the bustle

Of cobblestoned street.

~0~

John Watson observed his friend's musings

And secretly smiled;

He too still remembered the impact

Of places so wild.

He noted the houses and churches,

The ice covered lanes;

Recalling the breathtaking skies

Over forests and plains;

The people encountered,

Who aided or hindered their quest;

The night time cacophony

Often disturbing his rest.

~0~

It was dark

As they both disembarked,

They'd be safely home soon;

With their bags

And a permanent trace

Of the African moon.

~0~


	7. Of Mouse and Man

_Response to 8th prompt in Hades' awesome challenge._

_Prompt from silvermouse - Watson discovers Dawson (Great Mouse Detective). What is his reaction and why?_

* * *

**Of Mouse and Man**

* * *

It was late on a chill December evening,

The doctor flexed a cold and stiffened hand;

He had finished writing out his latest story,

Which was ready to be posted to his agent at The Strand.

~0~

He frowned, he had worked till almost midnight,

Tomorrow was a busy day on call.

He put away his pen and ink and paper,

And rose, intent on heading to his bedroom down the hall.

~0~

He paused, as he reached the parlour threshold;

He thought he'd heard a splashing, squeaking sound;

He sighed, and though he did not trust his senses,

Stepped back inside the room and took a careful look around.

~0~

He saw upon the floor, beneath the window,

A bowl left out for Mrs Hudson's cat;

Within, there swam a tiny frantic creature,

Incongruously dressed in dark grey coat and bowler hat.

~0~

He blinked, and knelt beside the spilling water

And gently fished the little fellow out.

He placed him on the carpet near the fire;

A strange hallucination, not the shadow of a doubt.

~0~

A handkerchief sufficed as makeshift towel,

They stared at one another, mouse to man;

A brown, bewhiskered form, stood proud and dripping

And looking as indignant as a portly rodent can.

~0~

He carefully removed his outer clothing,

And neatly laid things out to let them dry;

His coat and bowler hat were gently steaming

With a dapper woollen waistcoat and a tiny silk bow tie.

~0~

Now clad in only undershirt and trousers,

He gently shook his fur and curled his tail

And eyed the frankly stunned, bewildered doctor,

Who'd reached the point where words and vain attempts at reason fail.

~0~

"Dear Sir, I'm very grateful that you saved me,"

A gruffly pleasant squeak, a proffered paw;

"I wonder if you'd place me somewhere higher?

With Mrs Hudson's cat at large, it's safer than the floor."

~0~

A nod, a hand to lift him from the hearth rug,

A battered leather box to serve as chair,

And Watson, elbows resting on the table

Peered closer to examine who or what was sitting there.

~0~

"I'm Doctor David Dawson, at your service,

Like you, a medic, and ex army man;

You'll find we have an awful lot in common

You served your country too in, I presume, Afghanistan?"

~0~

"But how?... and what?...and where?" poor Watson stumbled;

Unused to conversations with a mouse.

His small acquaintance smiled and twitched his whiskers;

"You've missed an awful lot of what goes on within this house".

~0~

"We've watched you from our home beneath the floorboards;

That's Basil, my detective friend, and I;

Heard details of your myriad endeavours,

And marvelled at the characters and clients passing by."

~0~

"We have, of course, enjoyed our own adventures,

And solved a modest share of cases too;

You weren't supposed to learn of our existence

But my infernal carelessness has led me, sir, to you."

~0~

Watson smiled, and offered up an index finger

Which Doctor Dawson shook; a friendship pact.

"I can't pretend I understand what's happened,

But am pleased that I could carry out that simple rescue act."

~0~

The clock chimed one, the hour was getting later,

Doctor Dawson bid return to ground.

He dressed again, his clothes now gently toasted,

And he and Watson headed back to where he'd almost drowned.

~0~

A cheery wave, a door within the wainscot,

And Doctor Dawson vanished in a trice;

Watson blinked once more and stared still smiling,

Delighted by the thought of such intrepid, neighbour mice

~0~

Discuss with Holmes? He pictured his reaction,

And nothing he had witnessed could be proved.

He headed off to snatch a few hours slumber

First making sure that every single mousetrap was removed...

~0~


	8. Midnight Raid

_Day 9 response to Hades' awesome challenge._

_Prompt from Emma Lynch - Sherlock hates candied peel, but loves walnuts._

* * *

**Midnight Raid**

* * *

Magnifying glass and tweezers...

Just what I was looking for!

Down I creep towards the kitchen;

Midnight raid on festive store.

~0~

Senses sharp for signs of trouble;

No one else is still around;

Stealthily, I check each cupboard,

Making not the slightest sound.

~0~

Prize is now within my grasp,

I place it on the kitchen table;

Things will now be put to rights

As thoroughly as I am able.

~0~

Candied peel is sweet and sickly,

Not the slightest bit enticing;

Fruit tastes so much better when

It's not immersed in sugared icing.

~0~

Mincemeat carefully dissected;

Candied peel on separate plate.

Mrs Hudson's indignation...

Slippered footsteps heard too late.

~0~

Lectured now on bad behaviour;

Dreadful liberties I take.

Punishment: she will no longer

Bake my favourite walnut cake.

~0~


	9. THIN ICE NO SKATING

_a/n: 10th response to Hades' awesome challenge._

_Prompt from Catherine Spark - THIN ICE. NO SKATING._

_A case reaches a sad conclusion._

* * *

**THIN ICE. NO SKATING.**

* * *

THIN ICE. NO SKATING. The end of the case.

Watson stood with head bowed. Such a desolate space,

A hollow victory. The missing youngster had been found,

But no celebration, just a body on hard, frozen ground

And an ice-rimmed gaping hole, linked by a skating blade's trace.

~0~

Since sunrise, alerted by worried parents, a frantic race

Against time; hoping that with sharp minds and God's grace

They would locate the boy, warm and dry, safe and sound.

THIN ICE. NO SKATING.

~0~

His big brother's skates were gone. The hunt moved on apace

From popular local skating ponds, to this almost forgotten place.

Lestrade gazed at the gently wrapped bundle in the snow, and frowned.

_Turn back time; return the boy to his friends, and away from the cold depths, drowned._

One more duty to perform, a broken-hearted constable and his wife to face.

THIN ICE. NO SKATING.

~0~


	10. Kitchen Chaos

_Response to the eleventh prompt in Hades' challenge_

_Prompt from silvermouse - Mrs Hudson returns from shopping to find Holmes and Watson...baking! Do they succeed?_

_Also refers to chapter...Midnight Raid._

_Wishing Jack63kids a very happy birthday:-)_

* * *

**Kitchen Chaos**

* * *

Mrs Hudson, laden down with goods from shopping trip ordeal,

Presents bought for friends and lodgers, goose and extra candied peel,

Cards and wrapping paper purchased, decorations for the tree;

Longs for rest for weary legs, a comfy chair, a cup of tea.

Cabbie stops in Baker Street, and Mrs Hudson pays the fare;

Baskets stacked upon the pavement, thankful that she's nearly there,

Grasps the door knob, stops in shock, a loud explosion fills the air.

~0~

Bags are left behind on pavement, Mrs Hudson hurries in,

Pictures many dreadful reasons for that unexpected din.

Source appears to be her kitchen...judging by the tell-tale smoke

And the sound of Watson coughing, this is far beyond a joke.

In she storms, quite incandescent, galleon in full storm sail;

Anyone with any sense would see her righteous wrath and quail.

Holmes and Watson try to act as though there's nothing wrong...and fail.

~0~

Tablecloth is singed and blackened, water flows across the floor,

Cooking range is batter coated, spilling down the oven door;

Bowls are smashed, their contents scattered, staining every polished tile;

Dirty china fills the sink, a teetering unsteady pile.

Mrs Hudson can't believe she only left three hours ago,

Hands on hips she makes it clear how much the scene upsets her so.

Holmes and Watson stand, guilt-ridden, how could they have stooped so low?

~0~

Holmes begins an explanation, cites a sudden urge to bake,

Spurred by threatened lack of usual festive favourite walnut cake;

Found the perfect recipe, it seemed to be a simple task,

Just an hour he'd need her kitchen, really was no need to ask.

Doctor Watson looks remorseful, things got truly out of hand;

Why the walnut cake exploded, neither man could understand;

Soot encrusted ruined kitchen wasn't what the friends had planned.

~0~

Both apologise sincerely, both declare they'll put things right,

Both have overstepped the boundaries, both are chastened, both contrite;

Mrs Hudson, still indignant, thinks she's owed a little more;

Brand new modern kitchen range will start to even up the score.

Also, as the kitchen's spoiled, they'll have to take her out to tea;

Off she goes to fetch her baskets, head held high, all dignity.

Holmes and Watson sigh, and wonder what the final cost will be...

~0~


	11. Coma

A/_N: 12th response to Hades' awesome challenge_

_Prompt from silvermouse - Holmes ends up in a coma._

_POV of Dr Watson._

* * *

**Coma**

* * *

No wit-

No word-

No appreciation of the absurd-

No concentrated frown-

No steepled fingers-

No three pipe problem-

No smoke trail lingers-

No devastating sarcasm-

No caustic riposte-

No verbal fencing match-

No villains crossed-

No hawk-like gaze-

No assorted papers scattered-

No table top experiments-

No test tubes shattered-

No meticulous observations-

No studied clues-

No perfect disguises-

No unlooked-for honours to refuse-

No games afoot-

No clients and no cases-

No train timetables studied-

No sudden trips to far off places-

No urgent summons-

No patience wearing thin-

No cosy fireside chats-

No violin-

No comfortable companionship-

No black-masked raids-

No fog be-shrouded encounters on the moor-

No thrilling escapades-

No telegram-

No note-

No plea to come at once-

~0~

No telling what the next few days will bring-

No response.

~0~


	12. Cases

_A further response to Hades' awesome challenge._

_Prompt from cjnwriter - Holmes and Watson, now getting old, look back on all the good times they had._

_A few of their favourite things:-p_

* * *

**Cases**

* * *

_A farmhouse on the Sussex Downs_

_Where chalk cliffs meet the shore,_

_And two old comrades reminisce_

_On days which went before..._

_~0~_

* * *

A bright blue carbuncle, a diamond from Agra:

A loathsome red leech and a rat from Sumatra;

A lodger reluctant to unveil her face;

Do you recall this particular case?

~0~

A lighthouse, a cormorant and politician;

A stepdaughter's suitor arousing suspicion;

A brother's dark scheming at Shoscombe Old Place;

Each a unique and peculiar case

~0~

A lady harassed by her bearded employer;

Another whose stepson had vowed to destroy her;

A third on the continent, lost without trace;

Do you recall this particular case?

~0~

Silent dogs,

And moorland fogs,

And first and second stains;

Eliminate every impossible cause,

The answer is what remains.

~0~

A red-headed pawnbroker writing each morning;

A newlywed haunted by dancing men warning;

A horse unexpectedly winning his race;

Each a unique and peculiar case.

~0~

A footprint, a hound and a lethal plot thwarted;

A blackmailer burgled, his young housemaid courted;

The Woman who triumphed with humour and grace;

Do you recall this particular case?

~0~

A missing three quarter, a tragedy waiting;

A nobleman's pride at his marriage deflating;

A shattered Napoleon bust to replace;

Each a unique and peculiar case.

~0~

Twisted lips,

And orange pips,

A lethal speckled band;

We will not forget those adventures because

They're written up in The Strand.

~0~


	13. Mood Swings

_Response to Hades' awesome challenge_

_From Hades Lord of the Dead - A malevolent entity._

* * *

**Mood Swing**

* * *

_A cold and grey December evening,_

_Snow has turned to driving sleet._

_Something made of mist and shadows_

_Finds it's way to Baker Street..._

_Sweeping in through doors and windows,_

_Frames now rattle, draughts appear;_

_All which seemed so bright and cosy_

_Now is edged with doubt and fear..._

~0~

Mrs Hudson in the kitchen

Glares at china mixing bowl;

Dough, alas, no longer rising

Pastry isn't fit to roll.

She is sure her thoughtless lodgers'

Quirky habits spoiled her bread;

She would happily evict them;

Quieter tenants housed instead.

~0~

Watson at his bureau curses,

Flings his pen across the room,

Scowls at Holmes, just sitting there,

A picture of eternal gloom.

Screws his recent writing up,

Nothing penned is good enough;

Stalks across the living room;

Aching shoulder, angry huff

~0~

Holmes just sits and contemplates

His massive and superior brain;

Surely he'd be better off

In lodgings on his own again.

None could match his intellect;

None his equal, face to face.

Bored, he opens up the drawer

Which holds his old Morocco case.

~0~

Mrs Hudson kicks the table,

Cannot get the fire to light;

Cannot find the goods she needed

No one will be fed tonight.

Nothing that she does is noticed,

Every task, a thankless task.

Giving up, she leaves the room,

Finds solace in an old hip flask.

~0~

Doctor Watson knows he's useless;

Good for nothing, waste of space,

Crippled soldier, poor physician,

Feeble author, no true place.

Slams his suitcase on the floorboards,

Certain when he's left that none

Will spare a thought, or mourn his absence

Or even notice that he's gone.

~0~

Holmes sits still, beside the hearth,

As flames and warmth now flicker out;

Nothing's worth his precious time

There's no one he should care about.

He has spent his precious time

In sorting other people's woes,

Now he bitterly regrets

The great detective role he chose.

~0~

_Starlight streams through doors and windows,_

_Banishing the cold grey light._

_Doubts and fears begin to fade_

_As mist and shadowed thoughts take flight._

_Steadily, the mood is lifting,_

_Hope and common sense return._

_Embers in the fire start glowing,_

_Coal flares up, begins to burn._

~0~

Waking from a semi daze,

She drops the flask and rubs her eyes,

Back in her beloved kitchen

Kneaded dough begins to rise.

Mrs Hudson rolls her sleeves up,

Puts the kettle on to heat,

Hums as she prepares a tray

With something for her men to eat.

~0~

Watson puts his suitcase down;

Unpacks, sits down and shakes his head;

He cannot truly understand

Precisely where his thoughts had led.

Sheepishly, he leaves the bedroom,

Nods at Holmes, and takes a chair.

This address in Baker Street,

He would not swap for anywhere.

~0~

Holmes smiles warmly, greets his comrade;

Morocco case is cast aside.

Though the brain's a higher organ,

Place of heart can't be denied.

Clattering of cups on tea tray,

Mrs Hudson bustles in

Cosy evening whiled away

With tea and chat and violin.

~0~


	14. Challenge

_Next response to Hades' challenge_

_Life got in the way a bit..._

_This is for Jack63kids and johnsarmylady:-)_

_Prompt from KnightFury - A new hobby_

_A Drabble _

* * *

**Challenge**

* * *

Complicated chart is studied;

Hidden meanings, sharp deduction.

Items are identified

Essential for precise construction.

Every code, each symbol matters,

Missing one would spell disaster.

Goal is to achieve today

What others can take years to master.

Waits until the flat is empty;

Concentration, peace, is needed.

Breakfast, cup of tea, abandoned;

Creature comforts cool, unheeded.

Takes a seat by unlit hearth,

Prepared to start, resolve is steady;

He briefly eyes the chart again,

Checks that all equipment's ready.

Wields essential instruments,

More nervous now than he'll admit.

Will Sherlock Holmes achieve his aim?

Can great detectives learn to knit?

~0~


	15. Gift

_Response to December 16th prompt from Hades' awesome challenge._

_Prompt from Hades Lord of the Dead - Somehow Holmes and Watson end up getting a puppy for Christmas._

* * *

**Gift**

* * *

The parcel was shaking in a manner in which parcels ought not to;

Holmes gazed at it for the umpteenth time, wondering where on earth Watson had got to.

He understood, on an intellectual level, the desire for festive fripperies and celebration,

But not the need for a gaudily wrapped present, moving nearer with each puzzling vibration.

Then...a muffled bark...this was a new twist;

He checked carefully, no living creature was on his Christmas list...

Surely a mistake...he checked the label, then checked it again...

"To Holmes and Watson, Merry Christmas", alas, the intended recipients were writ plain.

Watson would sort it out...but...No!...he stared at the unexpected gift in dismay, not speaking;

As well as the yapping noises and excited movement...the package was leaking!

Fortunately for Holmes (less so for his close associate and friend), the stalwart physician appeared

Fresh from his bed. The Great Detective's mood, unsurprisingly, cleared.

Holmes grabbed his friend's shoulder ( the uninjured one) in a manner both helpless and pleading;

Watson took in the incessant howling, the soggy wrappings and Holmes' hopeful expression; he knew where this was leading...

Five minutes later...unwrapped gift chasing tail on hearth rug, cleaned carpet, a semblance of order restored

And a new and fluffy responsibility which was clearly determined not to be ignored.

Holmes looked at Watson, Watson looked at Holmes, both simultaneously sighed;

Only one solution...collar and lead, coats, hats, cane, and an intrepid threesome setting off to explore the wintry wonderland outside...

~0~


	16. Idle Hands

_Another response to Hades' awesome challenge..._

_Prompt from TemporarilyAbaft - A bored Holmes with only office supplies to occupy him._

* * *

**Idle Hands**

* * *

Waiting in

An empty office

Really is

Extremely hard,

Even when

Said empty office

Forms a part

Of Scotland Yard.

Why I said

I'd sit and wait

I do not have

A single clue;

There are simply

Far too many

Things

I'd really

Rather do.

~0~

Chair at least

Is well upholstered,

Spins,

A satisfying spin.

Office desk

Is really cluttered...

Where should my

"Research" begin?

Papers from

That very nasty

Abernethy murder case;

Look much better

Stacked up high,

To make a

Bigger writing space.

~0~

Unused sheets

Of coloured paper

Folded once...

Then once again...

I am sure

Lestrade will like

My perfect

Origami crane.

Now, what's this?

A small collection,

Different types

Of printer's ink?

Perfect for

My latest study...

Fits my pocket well,

I think.

~0~

Monograph

On rope for hanging...

Errors on page two...

And three;

Adding my corrections, boldly

(One day there'll

Be thanks for me).

Sample on

The desk

Is clearly

From the streets

Round Billingsgate...

Magnifying glass confirms

Ground fish scales

To corroborate .

If I carve

That information

By the little

Pile of dust,

With this compass

To be helpful,

He will solve

The crime,

I trust.

~0~

Next...

I'll add some

Useful notes

To witness

Statements...

Over here;

Underlining

Details

Which make

Cause

And motivation

Clear.

And, of course

His old type writer

Studied very carefully.

Now I'll know

The Yarder's letters

By the shortened

Upstroke "B".

~0~

Chest of drawers,

Important papers

And

A complicated lock.

Picked it with

This handy pen nib,

Time, I think

To check the clock...

Only waited fifteen minutes

News is really

Quite a blow...

Bored,

So bored,

And over forty

Boring minutes

Still to go...

~0~


	17. Long Shadows

_And another response to Hades' awesome challenge..._

_Prompt from Madam'zelleGiry - Old wounds cast long shadows_

* * *

**Long Shadows**

* * *

_"Old wounds cast long shadows._

_Hurts, years past, may never heal._

_Deep set damage burns and festers._

_Scars and calluses conceal."_

~0~

He finished writing, rubbed his eyes,

Then closed the book and stepped away.

Whatever let him hope forgiveness

Might be freely his one day?

~0~

Later, on return, he noted

New additions, neatly penned;

Written underneath his statement,

Written by his closest friend...

~0~

_"Although old wounds indeed cast shadows,_

_And hurts may never fully heal;_

_Some wounds are always worth the damage,_

_For what those battle scars reveal."_

~0~

He fixed his gaze upon two items;

A Gladstone bag and well-used cane.

A friendship truly tried and tested,

And peace of mind restored again.

~0~


	18. Christmas Eve

_Two prompts combined, and out of order._

_Wishing everyone a very Happy Christmas:-)_

_Prompts from cjnwriter - Mrs. Hudson's chocolate chip cookies._

_And from Wordwielder - Hot cocoa._

* * *

**Christmas Eve**

* * *

Young Arthur was now quite a seasoned Irregular,

Part of the gang for two busy long years;

Sheltered and fed, and not short of good company,

Accepted by his unconventional peers.

~0~

Today is the day for a festive traditional

Meeting at Baker Street, quarter past three;

Scruffy small lads from the back streets and alley ways

Heading there, groups of them, jubilantly.

~0~

Up to the door of that well-loved apartment,

Young Arthur steps forward and knocks on the door;

Twelve stand behind him in anticipation

Of smiles, stoves and sweetmeats and stories galore.

~0~

Into the kitchen, so warm and inviting,

An orderly queue for large mugs and small plates,

Hot cocoa, and trays full of chocolate chip cookies

(a recipe gleaned from a trip to the States).

~0~

A tumbledown heap of small boys, toes now toasting

By firelight, a rare and a welcome reprieve

From harsher pursuits, as tall tales become taller

And all is at peace on this crisp Christmas Eve.

~0~


	19. An Invitation to Church

_Another response to Hades' awesome challenge._

_Format is a kind of play, scene setting included in verse._

_Prompt by TemporarilyAbaft - 'Russet', 'game', 'lamp', 'gash', 'marble', and 'bell' – all used in a story (leniency on tenses and plurals, no specific order; aaaaaand GO!)_

* * *

**An Invitation to Church**

* * *

**The cast**

_Sherlock Holmes...a dab hand at deduction._

_John Watson...conductor of light._

_Mrs Hudson...a source of good sense and great patience._

_Young Arthur...a brave little mite._

_Lestrade and young Hopkins ( with boyish moustache)_

_And Mycroft ...the Crown's Number One._

_And Benson, a puppy,_

_And last, but not least..._

_An endlessly vengeful "Anon"._

* * *

**The Prologue**

_Is set on a cold winter's night, Doctor Watson and Holmes are in bed;_

_Approaching two hundred and twenty one B, a figure in black, stealthy tread._

_A letter is posted, a giggle is heard, the footsteps recede very fast;_

_The impression this leaves is that peace upon earth, and good will to all men may not last..._

~0~

* * *

**Scene one**

_The next morning, the household awakes, but something, it seems, is amiss..._

_~0~_

_Mrs H: ( bustles into the parlour at speed): _Mr Holmes! Doctor Watson! See this!

~0~

_She is waving an envelope, creased and besmeared with a dark crimson ominous stain;_

_The duo spring up from their comfortable chairs, excitement and horror writ plain._

_~0~_

_Holmes: (with the envelope held to the **lamp**): _I believe the red substance is blood;

I deduce that an enemy's found where we live, and is probably up to no good.

The scrawl on the envelope, looping and wild, hints at madness and dreadful misdeeds,

Forceps, please, Watson, I'll open this up and we'll see where this strange message leads...

~0~

_A hush, as adhesive is studied at length, then gently and carefully peeled_

_A gasp as the letter within is laid flat, and it's terrible contents revealed..._

~0~

"Dear Watson and Holmes _(still in wild looping script)_

I don't wish you the joy of the season

Instead I send only my deep-seated hate,

Which I've held for so long with good reason.

I have set up a case, I do hope you'll take part;

A case, I suspect, like no other

As an added incentive, to help you decide,

I have kidnapped dear Mycroft, your brother.

If that isn't really sufficient for you,

I've kidnapped young Benson, your little dog, too.

Do not tell the Yarders.

Please act on your own.

St Thomas's church.

At eleven.

Alone."

~0~

_The note tapers off to illegible scrawl_

_No clue to the vengeance-filled writer at all._

~0~

_And down in the kitchen...they knew what they'd see;_

_An empty dog basket where Benson should be..._

~0~

_Dr Watson_: What fiend could devise such a plan? Imprison your sibling and pup?

~0~

_Holmes_: There's a name at the top of my list, but I'm sure she's securely locked up.

~0~

_Mrs H:_ (with a horrified howl): This can't be! Here's a headline I don't understand!

~0~

_She flops in a chair, pale and flustered and points at the newspaper gripped in her hand._

~0~

_In large print _"A notorious lady of crime has escaped from her locked prison cell".

~0~

_Mrs H: calming down)_: It's mad Elsie again,

She is up to old tricks, I can tell...

~0~

* * *

**Scene Two**

_Is a graveyard, a desolate place, with weather-worn **marble** and stone;_

_The atmosphere grimly enhanced by the creaking of branches and bitter winds' moan._

_A woman looks out from the old ruined church, her **russet** hair tangled and knotted_

_And eagerly scans the horizon until three familiar faces are spotted._

~0~

_Watson: (voice low):_ Are you ready dear friends? There's no room for the slightest mistake;

The lives of a principal government force and an innocent dog are at stake.

~0~

_They cautiously walk to the door, three abreast; Mrs Hudson with head proud and high._

_~0~_

_Mrs H:_ We will sort out mad Elsie for good, and rescue our loved ones, or die!

~0~

_A sharp exclamation, a swiftly placed shove, a coping stone lands with a thud_

_Precisely where less than a moment ago, the redoubtable landlady stood._

_Though shaken, the trio walk warily on, aware of a part stifled curse_

_From where in the tower mad Elsie now stands, intent on an action far worse._

~0~

* * *

**Scene** **three**

_Church interior, gothic in style, old rafters exposed to the sky,_

_Pews, rotting and damp, fill a broken-tiled nave and waterlogged hymn books stack high_

_A stained velvet curtain draped over a pole, hides the steps to the lonely church tower_

_And a sad muffled bark serves to highlight the point of mad Elsie's position of power._

_They start to explore all the crannies and nooks of this crumbling, decaying old pile_

_And pick their way over the rubble which litters the sad looking chancel and aisle._

_Behind them, a clunk and a deep metal groan as the church door is bolted and locked_

_And brave Mrs Hudson stands firm with her tenants, though scared, apprehensive and shocked._

~0~

_Holmes_: Elsie, you will not succeed in your aim, please hand back my brother and pup;

Your quest for revenge has persisted too long. I suggest that you give yourself up.

Your silly obsession with hunting us down has continued for nigh on three years;

I predict that this fifth sad instalment is destined to end in defeat, and your tears.

~0~

_Mad E: (who appears to be somewhere up high):_ you will never defeat me, no never!

Not one of you here will escape , I'll make sure you're entombed in this building forever!

The walls are all rigged, high explosives are laid, and will burn as I ring the church **bell**

And at last I will have the reward I so richly deserve, I will see you in Hell!

~0~

_A peal of wild laughter, a peal of church bells, rather hollow, quite rusty, off key_

_Then silence, no noise no explosive finale, what hitch could there possibly be?_

~0~

_Holmes_: Elsie, we're one step ahead of your plans, we have thwarted your gunpowder plot;

Did you think we would simply fall into your murderous trap. Well, of course, we would not!

As soon as we'd read your epistle, young Arthur was summoned and sent to the Yard,

Then maps of the cellars and vaults meant that access ahead of the **game** wasn't hard.

I think you will find that your prisoners are free, and your hand-twisted fuses are clipped.

~0~

_As on cue, the Inspector and Hopkins and Arthur and prisoners creep out of the crypt._

_The curtain flies off and a ball of pure fury erupts from the old tower stair_

_And launches itself at the brave Mrs Hudson, with nails which can rip, shred and tear._

_It takes all five men, and the help of young Arthur, to wrestle mad Elsie's grip free._

~0~

_Mrs H: (rather shaken):_ I'm grateful of course and could do with a nice cup of tea.

Mycroft: (dishevelled and out of his depth) I am grateful as well for your aid ;

Perhaps the good doctor could tend to the **gash** on your arm which mad Elsie has made?

~0~

_Mad E: (back in derbies):_ I'm really upset, it's the utter injustice which rankles;

Well, that and your dreadful self-satisfied smirks and the beast now attacking my ankles.

~0~

_Lestrade and young Hopkins, mad Elsie in tow, head off to their most secure jail,_

_Determined, as ever, that this time attempts to restrain the fair villain won't fail._

~0~

* * *

**The epilogue**

_Safe in the parlour at home, Doctor Watson is pouring the tea._

_~0~_

_Mrs H: (neatly bandaged)_: I think that today held enough high adventure for me.

~0~

_Young Arthur: (at ease on the hearth with the dog):_ Do you think that she really has gone?

~0~

_Holmes: (pensive):_ I have a small sliver of doubt that this story may go on and on...

~0~

_Dr Watson_: Well, yes, but five times we have triumphed; landlady, small urchin and friend.

I think we can cope if mad Elsie returns, if we all stick together.

~0~

**The End**


	20. A Saint Stephen's Day Adventure

_A/N: a response to four prompts from Hades' awesome challenge_

_...possibly not Watson's usual writing style..._

_Prompts from..._

_ cjnwriter - Holmes gets really, really angry._

_Catherine Spark - Mrs Hudson drinks a potion which transforms her into a new born baby._

_ Lucillia - Saint Stephen._

_ W. Y. Traveller - A shallow grave._

* * *

**A Saint Stephen's Day Adventure**

* * *

A tale.

I have a tale to tell.

A tale to tell

Of what befell

My friends upon Saint Stephen's Day,

Or Boxing Day

As some would say;

The day which follows Christmas Day,

In England, not the U.S.A.

A strange, unlikely tale you'll say...

I'll tell it now,

Without delay...

~0~

The day began as days begin;

Cold snow without,

Warm fire within.

And peace

No strains of violin;

A day for tea

And staying in.

As Holmes and I,

From night time rest,

Awoke,

Arose,

And shaved,

And dressed;

We would not,

Could not

Then have guessed,

While simple

Daily tasks

Progressed,

The strange events

Which lay ahead.

We ate our

Ham and eggs instead,

Drank tea,

And buttered

Fresh-baked bread.

No fearful dread

In either head.

~0~

But then...

An awful wailing sound!

A shrieking, screaming, wailing sound,

Reverberated all around.

I looked at Holmes,

Holmes looked at me

Whatever could that racket be?

It put us off our eggs and tea.

Holmes tracked the dreadful wailing sound,

He put his ear against the ground;

It came from underneath the floor...

~0~

We opened up the parlour door,

And headed down, to learn for sure

Precisely what the noise was for.

We opened Mrs Hudson's door,

And found upon her kitchen floor,

A sight not seen down there before.

A new born babe, hours old, no more

And wearing Mrs Hudson's bonnet.

No other stitch of clothing on it.

It lay on Mrs Hudson's dress,

In hungry, wet, and cold distress.

A blanket;

We could do no less.

The cause of this

We could not guess.

We could not even

Start to guess.

~0~

Then...

Placed upon the kitchen table,

We saw an empty flask, with label.

The label read "Eternal Youth".

And thus we learned the awful truth

That Mrs H, sans hair, sans tooth,

Had last night drunk this evil potion;

An unwise, thoughtless, hopeful notion...

And suffered sixty years demotion.

~0~

Now Holmes is one to scorn emotion,

And hide his deep heartfelt devotion

To Mrs H.

This time however,

He acted in a way I ever

Only hope to witness once;

A savage and enraged response

"We'll find the evil potion shop!

We'll catch the owner on the hop!

I swear he'll face the hangman's drop!

No magic and no spells will save

This villain from a shallow grave!

Unless he can reverse this spell,

So Mrs H is safe and well

And back in her esteemed old age!"

I clapped;

Impressed by righteous rage.

~0~

So off we went,

Holmes did not stop

Until we found the potion shop,

And caught the owner on the hop,

And threatened him with hangman's drop,

And shallow grave,

And things far worse,

Unless he found the spell's reverse.

If not the case,

No hiding place;

No refuge left in London Town.

An angry Holmes would hunt him down.

No bolthole in the countryside,

No place to run,

No place to hide

Not in the day,

Not at night fall

No sanctuary for him at all.

The antidote, or death;

His call.

Holmes made his point effectively

And gained the antidote for free;

A flask marked "Ageing Gracefully".

I clapped again;

A victory.

~0~

So...

Back to Baker Street, we went,

With potion flask, now quite content,

But careful, lest a drop was spilled,

And Holmes was centred, calm and chilled;

His storm of fury spent and stilled.

~0~

The new born babe was placed in bed,

The bonnet loosely round her head,

Wrapped up in Mrs Hudson's dress

(Fresh laundered, to avoid distress),

Some apprehension, I confess,

At whether we'd achieve success.

We'd done our best

No more

No less.

~0~

We fed the babe, with spoon and flask,

A slow and complicated task,

Then left, and shut the bedroom door,

And waited for an hour or more,

Not certain what we waited for.

We waited, more and more unsure.

And then...

When half an hour had passed,

We heard some muffled sounds at last,

Holmes rushed into the room quite fast

And..

Joy and wonder unsurpassed!

For there she was, a welcome sight,

And Holmes and I, we hugged her tight;

She asked if we were both all right

Just barging in, and causing fright.

It soon was clear, to our delight,

She did not recollect the night

Or any youthful transformation.

We did not share that information,

Thus sparing her from consternation.

~0~

Much later

In Two two one B,

With scones and buttered toast and tea,

We sat beside the fire, we three,

That's Mrs Hudson, Holmes and me,

As happy as we all could be.

~0~

And this is where my story ends.

A happy Boxing Day,

Dear friends.

~0~

* * *

_A/N 2: Inspired by the wonderful verse patterns of Dr Seuss._


	21. For the doctor who has everything

_Another response to Hades' awesome challenge_

_Prompt from Ennui Enigma - Use the following words in a story: jemmy, dark lantern, chisel, revolver ("nice equipment for a respectable citizen") BRUC_

* * *

**For the doctor who has everything...**

* * *

For me?

A gift at Christmas time?

Oh, Holmes,

A big surprise.

Perhaps a brand new Gladstone bag?

The parcel's the right size...

It is indeed a type of case,

In tough but supple hide,

But not a Gladstone bag...

Oh wait!

It rattles!

What's inside?

Four parcels tucked away,

Oh Holmes,

This really is to much!

I know you are not fond

Of festive fripperies

And such...

Let's see...

The first unwrapped is...

Rather heavy,

Long and cold...

A jemmy,

Holmes how thoughtful

Where on earth are such things sold?

And next...

A small revolver,

With spare bullets

And a note.

Ah yes,

Thor Bridge

Apologies;

My old one did not float.

But after days of drying out,

And oiling and great care

It worked,

But I am grateful that

You've given me

A spare.

What's next?

A small dark lantern,

For nocturnal clandestine

And dodgy enterprises,

My dear fellow!

Very fine!

Now, one more gift wrapped package,

I well venture to deduce

It isn't socks or soap,

Nor has a pure domestic use...

Indeed!

A lovely chisel!

Such a handy item too,

For occasions when

House breaking

Is the only thing to do.

~0~

And Holmes,

A present here, for you...

The contents, since you ask...

A set of brand new pick locks,

Coil of rope,

And black silk mask.

~0~


	22. A Winter Assembly

_A/N: Prompt from I'm Nova - Uni!lock. Because Jane Austen wrote The Watsons - let's pretend they're John's cousins - meeting Tom Musgrave. Cousins here, cousins there, uni acquaintances meeting and the Uni!lock is served._

_This took a little research...learned that this was an unfinished story, by Jane Austen, featuring the Watson brothers and sisters, and starting with the preparation for a winter's ball...written at the start of the 1800s._

_Dedicated to all who are missing loved ones this December._

* * *

**A Winter Assembly**

* * *

He steadied his hands to the carriage's rhythm,

Adjusted the old-fashioned collar he wore.

A winter assembly, a family reunion,

Old friends he'd not seen since some five years before.

~0~

In the distance through trees, he could see lamplight blazing,

And the bustle, as parties arrived up ahead;

A student physician, now quite apprehensive;

At home on the wards and in theatres instead.

~0~

Shod hooves upon cobbles, they entered a courtyard,

Were greeted by groomsmen, and guided inside

To a brightly lit, cheerful and garlanded hallway,

Where the first of his cousins, young Emma, was spied.

~0~

She took his right hand, an affectionate gesture,

And led him upstairs while they chatted away,

Towards a large room in the Inn, bright and cheerful.

John smiled as he heard a lone violin play.

~0~

He saw, in the corner, a hawk-like musician

In deep concentration, intent on his bow,

A twinge of nostalgia, for all they had been through;

Their time spent together seemed so long ago.

~0~

His parents: his mother, quite flushed and excited;

His father, as usual, with quiet reserved pride;

And Henry, his brother, full glass raised in greeting,

Two bottles, quite empty, observed at his side.

~0~

Two more female cousins, their eyes on the menfolk;

Rushed over, squealed loudly, then moved off again,

And hovered in hope by the side of his Lordship;

Their plans for a suitable marriage shown plain.

~0~

Who else did he recognise? Rakish Tom Musgrave,

Approaching an elegant girl with fair hair.

It couldn't be her! A broad grin lit his features,

Against all the odds, Mary Morstan was there!

~0~

The hawk-like musician's gaze followed John Watson

As he tapped the girl's shoulder, perhaps his last chance.

The girl turned, quite startled, away from Tom Musgrave,

Accepting his shy invitation to dance.

~0~

The violin played the sweet notes of a polka,

As the couple swept on to the room's dancing floor;

A familiar tune, a particular favourite

Sang out with such passion, not heard there before.

~0~

Two souls moved as one, while the skilled violinist

Played on for them only, a gift for his friend.

John Watson and Mary, and lamplight and laughter

A magical evening they hoped would not end...

~0~

_A town house in Kensington, dark, Christmas morning,_

_The lamps burning dimly, the fire burning low;_

_A man sleeping softly where Morpheus claimed him,_

_A book, barely seen in the waning light's glow._

_~0~_

_A start, he awakens, as church bells disturb him,_

_He shakes his head, brushes his eyes with his sleeve;_

_The clock striking three, he is still in the parlour._

_A late busy clinic, that cold Christmas Eve._

_~0~_

_The book at his side, his late wife's, by Jane Austen,_

_How Holmes would have chided his love of romance._

_Just memories left now, of Holmes and of Mary,_

_No laughter and lamplight, no cousins, no dance._

_~0~_

_He sighed as he settled back down in his armchair,_

_From where he'd awakened, just minutes before,_

_And hoped against hope that deep sleep would reclaim him,_

_And let him go dancing with Mary once more..._

_~0~_


	23. Close Encounter

_Response to prompts for 28th and 29th of December_

_Prompts from TemporarilyAbaft - Mycroft writes a letter…_

_And from Hades Lord of the Dead - A kiss beneath the mistletoe._

* * *

**Close Encounter**

* * *

My Dearest Mrs Hudson,

This pertains to Thursday night;

I really need to set things straight,

And thought

I ought

To write.

I left somewhat

Precipitously;

Wrong footed

And

Ashamed.

And as for your

Discomfiture,

I should

Of course

Be blamed.

I called to speak to Sherlock,

He was absent,

No surprise;

And was grateful for

The Christmas cake,

And tea,

And four mince pies.

Such pleasant conversation,

Such delightful company;

Our time beside

Your roaring stove

Passed most

Agreeably.

But as

I bid farewell,

And crossed your

Freshly polished hall,

I slipped,

And tripped,

Flew forward;

Woollen coat,

Silk gloves

And all.

I landed in your startled arms

Beneath the mistletoe;

My mouth was open,

So was yours;

Our lips met

Soft,

Just so.

Quite flushed,

You blushed,

And backed away,

I exited

At once.

Not waiting

To apologise

Or wait for

Your response.

My act was

Unforgivable,

Ungentlemanly, too

And this,

A rather lame attempt

To apologise to you.

I hope

You did not think

I took advantage,

Took my chance;

The whole affair

Was due

To smooth-soled shoes

And happenstance.

I'll try to make it up to you,

The following is proposed;

Two tickets for

The Covent Garden opera

Are enclosed.

Your ever faithful servant

Mycroft Holmes

Esquire

~0~

_Postscript_.

~0~

_You now know, my dear lady_

_I am not_

_Stiff upper-lipped._

~0~


	24. Reluctance

_My final response to Hades' awesome challenge._

_Wishing everyone all the very best for 2015:-)_

_And many many thanks to Hades:-)_

_Prompt from silvermouse - Mon ami_

_Prompt from I'm Nova - "I won't do it ever again."_

* * *

**Reluctance**

* * *

I will do this just once,

My persistent old friend,

But I won't do it ever again;

I am not one for garlands

And seasonal cheer,

I have made my views

Perfectly plain.

~0~

I would rather stay home

As you know, mon ami,

With my test tubes,

And old violin.

I abhor all the fuss

As the great masses wait

For another

New year to begin.

~0~

My dear friend, as you know,

I excel at charades,

Twenty questions,

And, yes, blind man's bluff,

But I'm destined

For difficult,

Challenging things,

Not an evening of

Frivolous fluff.

~0~

But...you kept up your silence

For more than three days,

It was more than

Most people could stand,

And you got Mrs Hudson

Involved in your scheme,

Which was cunning

And quite underhand.

~0~

I had never expected

A fine walnut cake

To be used as a pawn in

Your game;

If the evening

Ends up in disaster,

Of course,

There is only your good self to blame.

~0~

So, our carriage is waiting;

We're dressed to the nines

And, we're off to the

Yarders event;

There'll be dancing and singing,

Much food and much wine

In an evening of

Forced merriment.

~0~

Do not fret my, dear Watson

I will keep to my word,

As a picture of joy and good cheer;

And at midnight, I'll wish

Each acquaintance and friend

All the best

For a Happy New Year.

~0~


End file.
